Possibly Thinking Too Much

First, I want to say a big thanks to all of you for your condolence messages, here and elsewhere. Hugs, both physical and virtual, have been mighty helpful to me through all of this. No matter the emotional upheaval that can ensue from romantic entanglements (and you know I’ve had plenty of those) it doesn’t come close to losing a parent.

There have been a number of thoughts that have struck me over the last few weeks since Dad’s death, and I am going to share those in this post. I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts later, but these are the ones that hit early on and stayed with me.

I was surprised and somewhat amused at something I learned from Mom on the drive to the funeral. As we passed a jogger, I said what I always say, “Run! Run for your life!” Mom told me that Dad never passed a jogger without saying, “He/she must be being chased by somebody.” I found it interesting that, even though different, we both had standard sayings for the passing of a jogger.

I come from a long line of oh-don’t-bother-yourself-about-me types, and I have come to the conclusion that we are just a bit too much that way after Mom told me that she woke to find Dad dead in the wee hours of the morning but didn’t call anyone (including myself or FU) except the hospice nurse until after 7:00 a.m. which she figured was a decent hour for making and receiving phone calls. Really Mom? You didn’t want to bother anybody? Really? Actually, I can kind of see her not calling me as I’m a few hours away and not able to get there very soon, but FU is a few minutes away. I know he would have wanted to go over and sit with her as she waited for the hospice nurse and the funeral home personnel (or whoever it is that comes for the body). But no. She took care of it all by herself and then started making calls once it was acceptably late in the morning. (Though really, if it isn’t a serious situation don’t call me at 7:00 a.m., okay? Thanks.)

This whole oh-don’t-bother-yourself-about-me thing is something I have been dealing with in my therapy sessions with Freud for several months now. He said to me at one point (jokingly), “I do believe if you went to the ER gushing blood from a severed artery, and some guy came in with a possibly sprained ankle, you’d tell the ER personnel ‘no, no I’ll be fine, take care of him first.’” I replied (only half joking), “Well, of course, I could just tie a tourniquet around my arm and wait my turn. I don’t want to be pushy.” And now? I haven’t been to therapy since August. I screwed up, and didn’t get appointments scheduled ahead of time, and he got all booked up for September so I don’t go back until mid-October. Now, some might think that the death of a close family member would be reason enough to call one’s therapist to see if one could get squeezed in for a session without having to wait another month, but not me. Nope. Even though I feel like it might do me some good to talk with Freud I just don’t want to be a bother to him or his office staff by asking for special favors EVEN THOUGH he has encouraged me to do just that in the past when I’ve been going through rough patches. Part of me keeps saying “CALL! You need to talk to someone about this.” The other part says, “Well, you’ve waited this long so you might as well wait until your next scheduled appointment.” I will say that I did call my pastor the morning Dad died, and I did go spend two hours with her that day pouring out my emotions so it isn’t as though I haven’t had someone to talk to although I felt really bad about taking up so much of her time.

W and N were both real torn up over Dad’s death. N’s reaction didn’t surprise me much. Under his tough young teen veneer is a very emotional core. I know this. When he told me, “This is too hard. I can’t live through this.” I was actually prepared. I told him that I understand it feels that way, but that we can and will get through it, that we’ll always miss Grandpa but the pain will not always feel as sharp and the only thing we can do is allow ourselves to feel the pain in order to work our way through to the other side. W surprised me by telling me that he felt that my dad was more of a dad to him than his own ever was. He said his dad was rarely around and seldom did they ever talk. It was the first time I ever heard him say anything about his family that was less than glowing. It took me aback just how much W has grieved and continues to grieve the loss of my dad. I have spent a good deal of time trying to help both N and W through their grief, so much so that I sometimes wonder when it will be my turn to grieve and receive comfort from them, or W at least. In one of my less than stellar moments recently I even said to W, “You know. He was my dad. It would be nice if I could be the one that can be all broken up about for a while instead of the one who has to go around comforting everybody else all the time.”

My concentration level is down to near nothing since Dad died. Also, insomnia has become my constant companion which I’m sure doesn’t help the concentration level. When I do manage to get to sleep I dream wild, vivid dreams like the one a few nights ago where I was doing water ballet and having to perform my first solo. Strange.

I have more thoughts than time right now so I’ll stop. For now. More later. Maybe.

Happy Anniversary

Today is my three year anniversary at my job. Looking back three years ago it seems like such a short time in some ways and a lifetime ago in others. The new job meant a second big move in just a few years’ time, a disruption whose effects continue to ripple through my life. Some things are better than they were then, some things are worse, some are just different but not really better or worse, and some things are just still the same. Let’s look at each category, shall we?

Better

• BJ and I have run our course
• M is a steady source of physical release so I’m not so on edge all the time
• Meds for the depression finally seem to be right
• Freud is helping me be a better me
• I have season Illini basketball tickets
• I love, love, love, love, love my church
• I have developed true friendships with a few people

Worse

• I keep letting J back into my life in spite of him being on marriage #3
• I am dealing with a house I never should have bought
• Finances continue to worsen, at least for the next few months
• My relationship with my parents is becoming more strained again
• My weight is back up to where it was before I lost weight several years ago
• I let Gladys intimidate me to the point where I don’t use my backyard

Just Different

• N is a precocious 11-year-old instead of a precocious 8-year-old
• N is focusing on soccer and basketball as his sports of choice rather than doing everything
• Different boss, now that we’ve cleared the air I no longer consider this a worse thing, but I’m not ready to say it’s a better thing either

Same

• W is still here, once again living in my home
• W and I are still married
• I am still miserable being with W
• I still hate the stupid Hallmark holiday in the middle of February
• I still hate Midwestern winters
• I still miss living in northern CA

Overall, I would say that the Betters outweigh the Worses. Also, many of those Sames are things I need to help change so there’s plenty of room to keep making the Better list longer.

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On another note, (although I suppose one could argue this could’ve been part of the Better list) I have returned to reading one book every week or two. While this isn’t near what my reading used to be it is far greater than it has been in a long time and probably about as much as my busy life can accommodate currently. I credit getting the depression under control with bringing back my ability to concentrate and focus long enough to actually read and comprehend. I recently obtained a library card and am having a ball checking out books and reading.

Sunday Stealing: The Final Week of 2009 Meme

1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before? Let W move back into the house after I thought I’d finally gotten him out for good.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? No, and no I don’t think I’ll make any this year although I still have a few days so maybe I’ll change my mind.

3. How will you be spending New Year's Eve? Sleeping.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Yes, I blogged about it here.

5. What countries did you visit? Just this one.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? The key to not letting my past interfere with my future.

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Monday, August 24, 2009. It’s the day I sent the most ill-fated email of all times, the one that asked BJ if we could slow things down and that signaled the beginning of the end of our relationship.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Fighting back against the biggest wave of depression in my lifetime and winning, giving me hope that I can continue to fight back in the future when the depression comes again.

9. What was your biggest failure? Not finding the hardness of heart necessary to make W have to fend for himself rather than letting him back in my house.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Just a hugely broken heart.

11. What was the best thing you bought? Tickets to Holiday World for N and me. It was a great, and not terribly expensive, summer vacation.

12. Where did most of your money go? Mortgage, over half my net income went there.

13. What song will always remind you of 2009? Live Your Life by T.I.

14. What do you wish you'd done more of? Taking care of me.

15. What do you wish you'd done less of? Taking care of W.

16. What was your favorite TV program? It’s so hard to pick just one, but if I had to whittle TV viewing down to just one program I would pick All My Children. It’s an addiction.

17. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? No, hate is a waste of time and energy in my opinion.

18. What was the best book you read? One of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events books. I don’t remember the title, but it’s the one that mostly takes place at Heimlich Hospital. N and I read it together as a bedtime story for him, and I loved it.

19. What was your greatest musical discovery? That N is pretty good on the trumpet.

20. What was your favorite film of this year? Avatar.

21. What did you do on your birthday? Try as I might, I absolutely can’t remember. Even looking back at my calendar it appears that nothing at all special occurred that day. I even went back and looked at my blog entries from that time, and they didn’t give me a clue.

22. What kept you sane? Who said I stayed sane? However, I will say that my friendships with Drama, Jeni and Val did a lot to help keep me as sane as possible.

23. Who did you miss? BJ, still do. . .

24. Who was the best new person you met? The new pastor at my church.

25. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009: Trust no one and always look out for #1.

The Good Thing About Blogging

I write. I get responses. I think. That’s a good thing, that thinking part. I’ve spent the better part of the weekend, when not watching N play in a soccer tournament (his team came in second BTW, thank you very much), thinking about the current state of me and moving from the phase where I go all out self-destructive-running-on-adrenaline to the phase where I start to step back and look at what I’m doing and evaluate. Now generally at this stage I would put the blinders on and defend myself to myself and keep right on going. This time I’m really thinking a few things through although it hasn’t quite thrown the brakes on just yet. (Who knows, though, maybe after my visit with Freud tomorrow, maybe the brakes will engage, or maybe even just downshift me into low gear or something.)

As I added the new FWB (who shall henceforth go by M on the blog) to the post where I have my list of all the men I’ve had sex (as defined by intercourse, as in oral only doesn't get you on the list) with I looked over that list. It has been a very long time since I have had sex with a bona fide single person. Over and over I have chosen to be with married men. Now, I suppose I knew this, and yet just seeing it listed that way made me realize it in a way I hadn’t before. There is clearly something fucked up in my psyche that would cause me to follow such a pattern because it is a definite pattern, not a coincidence.

I’m just starting to piece things together, but the following are some of the pieces in random order as they pop into my brain:

1. I feel inferior and unworthy of a truly high quality partner.
2. At least part of that feeling of inferiority comes from my parents telling me over and over that if I didn’t change certain things about myself (such as my weight and my mile wide independent/rebellious streak) that I would never find a man who wanted me.
3. I have spent my life being grateful for any attention men would pay to me and tend to grab hold and hang on as if I am lucky to have anyone at all.
4. At this point, I feel like I am too far gone to be able to turn around and make things different, that even if I did change how I feel about myself it wouldn’t change how others see me and I would always be “damaged goods” and untrustworthy.
5. I am appalled by how pathetic all this sounds and realize that most of the time I do my best not to acknowledge the existence of these thoughts and feelings because they feel too daunting to challenge/tame/conquer.
6. As long as I settle for sex with married men, there is no chance of them judging me harshly (glass houses you know).
7. Every time someone (and there have been many) says to me, “You are worth more. You deserve more.” I think to myself that they are absolutely 100% wrong, and that I don’t even deserve as much as I have.
8. I fear that if I hold myself to a higher standard I will never have sex again and never have another chance to have a marriage or relationship of any kind.

That’s as far into my psyche as I can dig right now. Too much pain. Too many tears. Lots to discuss with Freud tomorrow.
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Late Update:
I totally and completely forgot K when I was saying I hadn't been with a single man in a very long time.  For some reason I failed to add K to the list (have fixed that now though).  However, I do believe this is just the exception that proves the rule.  If you don't remember K, you can find some of my posts about him here, here, and here.  Now, let me warn you that last one is pretty sexually graphic.  If that's not your cup of tea don't go there, 'kay?  Just sayin'.  Anyway, it feels a little better to know that there was at least one single man out there who spent a little time with me.

Sunday Stealing: Janana's Now Vs. Then Meme

Even in the depths of the black hole, it isn't always all bad. I do see streams of light here and there. I do enjoy certain things. I do have fun. I do smile genuinely occasionally. One of the things I've been enjoying recently is doing the Sunday Stealing memes. So here's the one from this past Sunday. It's a good one.




It's been a while since we had to post rules. But here we will list the relevent ones:
*Think back to ten years ago on this month.
*Write truthful answers and ELABORATE. This makes it more interesting!
*If you don't have a scanner you may omit #14 but I think if you do you should totally do it!
*It's about personal changes. Have fun with it!

Then: August 1999

1. Age: 38

2. Romantic Status: Married

3. Occupation: Accounting Manager

4. Fun night out: With a baby not yet a year old, these were so few and far between I haven’t a clue what we might have done for a fun night out.

5. My BFFs: Nina, Peg

6. I spent way too much time: Obsessing about how much I wanted a new job.

7. I spent not enough time: Appreciating everything I had, including a good job with great benefits and a beautiful wonderful baby boy.

8. I wanted to be when I grew up: Director of Finance

9. Biggest concern: Lack of sex, as it had been for several years.

10. What my biggest concern should have been: W’s lack of parenting skills, particularly since he was the stay at home parent.

11. Where did I live: Northern CA

12. Dumbest thing I did that year: Ignored the warnings both of W’s grown children gave me about his lack of parenting skills.

13. If I could go back now and talk to myself I would say: Appreciate what you have now, because it isn’t going to be long before things get much, much worse.

14. Picture of me then: Sorry, but if you know what I look like now you pretty much know what I looked like then. It was right before I started my weight loss journey and weighed then almost exactly what I weigh now.

Now: August 2009

1. Age: 48

2. Romantic Status: Separated

3. Occupation: Sr. Financial Analyst

4. Fun night out: Dinner and a Movie

5. My BFFs: Drama, C, Kristi

6. I spend way too much time: Obsessing about money.

7. I spend not enough time: Working on getting the divorce accomplished.

8. I want to be when I grow up: Mature

9. Biggest concern: Whether I’m being a good mom to N.

10. What my biggest concern should be: Pushing harder for a solution to my depression.

11. Where do I live: In the most perfect place on earth.

12. Dumbest thing I have done this year: Am I limited to just one? Because really I’ve done some pretty dumb things this year, most too dumb to even share here. Ok, ok, one of the dumbest things I’ve done this year is to wear brand new flip flops on water park day of our vacation which resulted in a massive blister under my second toe of my left foot. It took more than a week for it to stop hurting with every step.

13. What I think I would say to myself in 10 years: Less thinking and more action would have served you better.

Summary:

1. What do I miss most from 1999: having a baby in the family.

2. What do I miss least from 1999: having a baby in the family.

3. What have I accomplished in 10 years that I am most proud of: passed the CPA exam on my first try after a 20-something year hiatus.

4. What have I NOT accomplished in 10 years that I wish I had: I never did find the job of my dreams, even though the one I have now comes close. I miss the supervisory role that I used to have and the insight into the company one gets at the management level.

Getting Me

Growing up, there were two people in the entire world who I thought really understood me, just two people who really got what I was all about and understood and cared and realized the rest of the world didn’t really get me. Neither of these people was around as often as I would have liked. Never did I ever have any direct conversation with them about the fact that they got me like no one else. Somehow though I knew. I knew that they saw inside of me in a way no others did. They saw who I really was, understood who I really was, and appreciated me for who I really was. Neither of them ever tried to change me. Both of those people are dead now, have been for many years, and so far in my life I have found nobody else who can understand me the way those two did. Maybe it was because I carried a little of each of them within me. Maybe it was because they took the time to really know me. Maybe it was because they were kindred spirits and more like me than I ever realized at the time.

The two people about whom I’m writing are two of my grandparents – my paternal grandmother and my maternal grandfather. Interestingly, these two people while having some commonalities in background were mostly night and day, particularly their personalities, at least the sides of their personalities they showed to me as I grew up.

Grandma was as steady as granite. She knew what needed to be done and set about doing it. I never heard her complain about anyone or anything. There just wasn’t time in her day for it, just as there was little time in her day for anything that didn’t further the running of the farm. I rarely knew her to take a break, and even if she sat down she was working on something, perhaps making a quilt or mending clothes or crocheting a doily or snapping green beans for dinner or pitting cherries for pie. If she sat without working it was likely because she was eating a meal or visiting with neighbors who dropped by. Even then, though, she’d be up and down to take care of one thing or another.

On the other hand, Granddaddy was a great lover of fun and jokes and tall tales. He wasn’t afraid of hard work, but he didn’t go out of his way to look for it either. He liked to sit and talk and tell stories of his adventures as a small town cab driver and the people he carried here and there. Nothing made him happier than to make his grandchildren laugh and squeal with delight as he teased them and played with them. He didn’t like to wear his teeth unless he was working, and he always took them out to eat which seemed backwards to everybody but him. Also, he liked what he called the “fat meat” from a steak or a roast. While everyone else was eating the lean meat he would eat the fat that he had cut off before the meat was served. If nothing else, Granddaddy was a character, and to me as a child he seemed larger than life not at all because of his stature (I think he was 5’ 9”) but because of his way of being, his expressive gestures, his boisterous humor, and his zest for living life.

For all their differences though these two people seemed to get me. Even if they didn’t understand me (although I certainly felt they understood me) they at least accepted me for who I was and never tried to change me or improve me. Neither of them ever commented on my weight. Neither of them ever spoke down to me as though as a child I could never understand adult conversations. Neither of them treated me as though I were anything other than a full fledged person, worthy of dignity and respect. I told secrets to both of them, secrets they never shared with anyone else. I shared lots of one on one time with each of them whenever I had the chance and would tell them of my dreams for my future. They never laughed or scoffed at any of my ideas but would encourage me to reach for every dream. They wanted so much for their grandchildren to have wonderful lives. They were both very encouraging to me, and interestingly, it was their acceptance of me just as I was that was most encouraging. I didn't have to change a thing to be just fine in their eyes. All I had to do was be me, whoever I happened to be at that point in time, and whoever I chose to become as I matured. When I was with either of them I was okay. I felt that it was okay to be me and to reach out for my dreams because they supported that notion in me. At other times I was shunned and the outcast and not good enough, but with either of them I was just fine the way I was.

I loved them more than any of my other relatives. I did not appreciate them when they were here nearly as much as I should have. I miss both of them, particularly Grandma. She was such a role model to me of what a woman could be – steadfast, strong, competent, compassionate, gentle, and appreciative. I wish I could be just a fraction of what she was.

If I were a real writer I would have some nice summarizing paragraph to close this out. As it is, with me just a lowly accountant who loves numbers way more than words, I’ve got nothing but the tears that keep forming unbidden as I write. I’ll end this post like I used to end papers I wrote in grade school:

THE END

Flawed

We are all flawed. It is part of our human condition. There is to be found no perfection among us.

I know that. I most certainly do. I’m trying to develop a better attitude and state of mind around this fact because my current attitude and state of mind are not working for me.

Currently, and for as long as I can remember, in my mind there are two states of being: perfect or failure. That is a very black and white way of looking at things, and the world is full of shades of gray (not to mention a myriad of other colors some of which I’m not even sure what they are, such as puce). In actuality the opposite of perfect is imperfect. Clearly part of my problem is equating imperfect with failure.

Part of the problem with equating imperfection to failure is that if you are doomed to be a failure then why be the least failed failure? Might as well go for the whole hog and be the most failed failure since no matter how hard you try you aren’t going to be a success (and here’s another part of my problem: I equate success with perfection) anyway so you might just as well eff it up big time if you’re going to eff up at all.

In my world, if I am not perfect then I am not a success. Therefore, because I am like all humans I am imperfect and therefore a failure. Carrying it further then it no longer behooves me to even try because I can’t ever be anything but a failure anyway since I will never be able to achieve perfection and perfection is the only way I can achieve success.

Now (said in my best Dr. Phil voice) how’s that workin’ for ya Trueself?

It’s not working very well, not at all. As a matter of fact it makes life damned hard and hardly worth living.

(Channeling Dr. Phil again) You must be getting a payoff with this behavior or you wouldn’t continue to do it. What’s the payoff you get out of this?

It gives me an excuse to not try. It makes it okay for me to sit on my butt and do little to nothing to make my situation better.

Okay. There. I’ve said it. That’s as far as I can go today, right now. I have to let this marinate for a while because it’s a big deal, a big effing deal, and I need to think about how I’m going to go about changing this attitude problem and how I can revise my point of view on things. But it’s a start, this acknowledgement of reality.

It’s a start.

Turning into My Father

When I was young it used to drive me batty that my dad would spend a good part of Sunday morning watching what I at the time thought was the most boring TV shows ever: the political talk shows a la Meet the Press and Face the Nation. I couldn’t understand why on earth he would care about such things. I also remember the summer when the Watergate hearings were televised. My dad was glued to the TV throughout, right down to staying in the hotel room while my mom took us kids to the beach when we were in Miami Beach on vacation.

In addition, my dad read every book he could get his hands on about Watergate and about the major players in Watergate. He continued his reading with other books about politics and politicians. Every time a politico comes out with a new book, Dad’s down at the library checking it out. He reads while he watches CNN, C-Span and Fox News in the background. Not only does he read, but he writes too. He writes letters to his congressmen, both state and federal. He lets them know exactly what his feelings are about issues and that whether or not he’ll vote for them in the future is dependent on their votes on certain issues near and dear to his heart.

In other words, my dad is a political junkie. He thrives on it. The scary part is that I’m starting to become just like him. Not that we always take the same stand on issues (although we do about three quarters of the time I’d guess), but we both love a good political discussion and both prefer to be as knowledgeable as possible about the issues.

I watch Meet the Press (though it’ll never be as good as when Tim Russert moderated) with some regularity. I find I tune in to the other Sunday morning political shows more and more often than I used to do. I immerse myself in news articles both in hard copy newspapers and magazines and from online resources. I find myself more and more interested in really listening to what the politicians say and then seeing how their votes and their actions align with their words. I spend very, very little time on political forums online, preferring to look for facts rather than emotions, and trying hard to look for substantiation before believing what I read. I tend not to rigidly vote the party line but vote for the person I believe is right on more issues, and particularly on the most important issues. I often vote for someone not of the Republican or Democratic persuasion.

I am my father’s daughter. Thanks Dad!

Priorities

I was reading this article from the Associated Press about the victims of the recent hurricane and how they are coping. I found this section particularly interesting (emphasis added by me of the most interesting part).

More than 1 million people evacuated the Texas coast as Ike steamed across the Gulf of Mexico. Gov. Rick Perry said 20,500 people were still staying in 190 shelters Friday. About 135,500 families had qualified for government-funded hotels, though less than 9,000 were checked in, said Richard Scorza, a spokesman for the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

The federal relief effort has delivered hundreds of trucks of ice, water and food to more than 5 million people in the region.

Among those accepting a hand was Cheryl Harwell, who holed up in an empty hotel as Ike devastated the Bolivar Peninsula community of Crystal Beach. She ignored a mandatory evacuation order last week and suggested she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

"I got everything I need here," said Harwell, 50, as she sat on the hotel's second-floor balcony with her husband and a friend.

Destruction surrounded them, but their second-floor abode was dry and tidy, complete with clean linen, bottled water and beer.

"We're happy here," said Harwell's husband, Armando Briones. "We've got plenty of cigarettes and plenty of food."

If they need something, they simply flag down the National Guard, which has been making daily checks.

Bless them for having their priorities in order at such a time. Some people might not have the presence of mind to stock up on such essentials as beer and cigarettes in such trying times.

Memorial Day - More Than BBQs and a Day Off

Memorial Day is observed on the last Monday of May in the U.S and commemorates U.S. men and women who perished while in military service to their country. First enacted to honor Union soldiers of the American Civil War, it was expanded after World War I to include casualties of any war or military action.

While I have many in my family who have served in the military, I am fortunate not to have had any lost in military service. However, I grew up in a family who honored those lost in military service every single Memorial Day. I have attended many services on many Memorial Days and have participated in many as a member of Girl Scouts and school bands when I was growing up.

It seems to me that there are fewer people out there spending Memorial Day as anything other than one more day off, a day to play, a day to get a few more things done, part of a long weekend that affords the opportunity to travel. That saddens me.

No matter your opinion of wars that have been fought and the political decisions behind those wars, it seems the least we can do to one day out of the year take time to honor those who gave their lives fighting for their, and our, country. I salute those that have given their lives in service for the U.S. I offer hugs and sympathy to the families of the fallen. I think it isn't too much to ask that we all take a few minutes out of our day filled with fun and frolic to appreciate those that have made the greatest sacrifice that one can make so that we can have these days of fun and frolic.

Yes, even this bleeding heart liberal is a big fan of Memorial Day.

Happy Birthday to Me

I share my birthday with the following famous people (some of whom I don't recognize so I've bolded the ones I do recognize):

1979 Daniel Johns (singer, guitarist)
1978 Kim Elizabeth (author, poet)
1961 Jeff Hostetler (NFL QB)
1954 Joseph Bottoms (actor)
1950 Peter Frampton (rock guitarist)
1937 Jack Nicholson (actor)
1935 Glen Campbell (actor/singer)
1928 Aaron Spelling (TV executive producer)
1925 George Cole (actor)
1916 Yehudi Menuhin (violinist)
1908 Eddie Albert (actor)
1904 J Robert Oppenheimer (head of the Manhattan project)
1899 Vladimir Nabokov (author)
1724 Immanuel Kant (philosopher)

Jeff Hofstetler and I were both born in the same year as well as the same day. Looking at our birth year in history I found the following highlights:

In 1961 (the year you were born)

John F. Kennedy becomes president of the US An estimated 1200 anti-Castro exiles aided by the US make a failed invasion of Cuba's Bay of Pigs Navy Cmdr. Alan B. Shepard Jr. becomes the first US spaceman rocketing 118 miles above the earth Hurricane "Carla" wipes out Texas gulf cities, claiming 46 lives Russian Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin makes the first manned space flight Wayne Gretzky, Henry Rollins, Fabio, George Clooney, Dennis Rodman, and Diana, Princess of Wales are born New York Yankees win the World series Green Bay Packers win the NFL championship Chicago Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup Disney's One Hundred and One Dalmatians is the top grossing film Catch-22 by Joseph Heller is published The Miracles' "Shop Around" becomes Motown's first million-selling single

What Happened the Year You Were Born?

And what's a birthday without the Beatles' birthday song?

Happy Blogiversary

Two years ago today at the beginning of a huge personal crisis I started this blog. My goodness how far I've come in those two years. The time has flown by, and I can hardly believe two whole years have gone by.

I'm amazed that I've stuck with this blogging thing this long, but I must say it has become quite the addiction. Without blogging I'd be lost.

Join me now, won't you, in a little celebration:

One Year Ago

One year ago this week I was finishing my last week at my old job, and getting ready to move into a new chapter of my life. One year ago next week I was making my move from LOH to my little rental here in LNJ, and spending a few days with BJ in my new place. I’ll never forget those few days together, how comfortable it felt to be with BJ, how much I enjoyed showing him around LNJ in spite of it being quite cold when we went for a little walking tour one day that he was here. Am I making myself more miserable by thinking back on those times? Maybe. But they were good times. I cherished them then, and I cherish them still. It was a relationship that bridged the gap, kept me going when I was in need of something to keep me going. Now I feel a little more ready to keep going all by myself, kind of like taking the training wheels off the bike. Now maybe I can stand on my own without requiring somewhere to lean.

It’s hard to believe that it has been a year since I left the old job. Time has flown. The two years before that at the old job crawled. Seldom did a day go by after the first couple of months that I didn’t long for it to be quitting time each day, to be Friday and the end of the week, or to be the last day before a holiday or vacation. Lordy, those were two mighty long years. This past year has simply flown by. There has been so much to do in this job that is interesting and engaging. The people here seem to “get” me unlike those at the last job. I truly feel that I’ve come home here.

Damn, this post sounds almost optimistic and upbeat here. How on earth did that happen?

Goodbyes

Goodbye to 2007.

Goodbye to changing jobs and moving to a new town (or more accurately returning to an old town).

Goodbye to a year of relationship turmoil, continued crumbling to the shaky foundation of my marriage.

Goodbye to regaining all that weight I lost before.

Goodbye to dependence on others to make my decisions.

My final goodbye to Dan Fogelberg:



Tomorrow: my hellos for the new year (although I probably won't get it posted until I get back from Pasadena)