“The Pessimist” Arch-Nemesis To “The Optimist”

Whenever I have my mind set on doing or accomplishing something, there is always that one person who wants to dissuade me from my goal.  This person is known as The Pessimist, the “NO” person, the guy who loves to say that you can’t.  It is an increasingly obvious annoyance, one that I’m used to handling by formulating a plan and carrying it out.  Some people are just natural at trying my patience by never being satisfied or growing more insistent about the reasons behind their disapproval.  Most of the time, I can ignore it because I am the opposite.  Most of the time, but not yesterday.

This Friday into Saturday, the east coast had a snow storm which turned to mild hail and sleet.  The ground on Saturday afternoon had a nice white coat of snow atop an inch of solid ice.  Lately, feeling like the she-woman that I am, coupled with my Wonder Woman fantasies, I decided to go about tackling the large sidewalk in front of my building.  I grabbed a shovel eagerly determined to take on the task.  Across the street, I saw others doing the same thing: a two-person team of men and a few local alcoholics attempting to earn enough money from shoveling to knock a few brews down at the local pub.  Being the born optimist, I devised my plan: spread some salt on the path I was going to forge and chop through the ice square foot by square foot until I was done.  So I grabbed the salt and spread it all out.  I saw that it was good.  Then, I grabbed the shovel and began to chop when all of a sudden, some village idiot stepped out of the bar to have a smoke. 

Here’s some of the gems that came out of his mouth:

“You ain’t never gonna get to the bottom of that.”  Really?  Watch me.

“There’s about an inch and a half of ice underneath.”  Thank you, stater-of-the-obvious.

“I tried to do the front of my house down there, and couldn’t do it.” Because you were probably looking for an excuse to go to the bar.

“Don’t even try, you’re wasting your time…”  And what are YOU doing at the bar, you over-achiever you? 

…’Cause you’re a girl, I heard him say even though the words never escaped his lips.  I even detected a hint of laughter and you know what that meant, dontcha?  Heh.  That meant I had to complete that path even if it killed me.  It meant that I had to show the village idiot that all it took was a little elbow grease and a double-X chromosome to get done what a man couldn’t.  My honor was at stake here.  You can see that, can’t you??  I know you can. 

So under my breath (like some crazed fanatic) I chopped away at the ice reciting mantras to myself and affirmations like:  ‘An inch of ice only?! Is that all you got?!’ and ‘You gotta do it in pieces, that’s all.’ Soon, I could see the pathway coming to life.  I worked slowly, painstakingly so as not to hurt myself. I spread some more salt as needed.  Each time I looked back, I felt more proud of myself.  I know I’m strong but–sometimes–I forget how much.  Much like life, I didn’t realize how much I had done until I looked back at the progress I’d made.  Piece by piece I worked that ice until my hands hurt.  Then, turning back I said (to myself): How do you like me now?!  I was so damned proud of myself, I couldn’t contain my joy.  After I was half finished, the idiot stepped out of the bar and as he passed he said in a low voice, “…at least you made a little place to walk.” 

Mission Accomplished.

A-Hole.

It’s The Little Things That Bring Me Luck

Many years ago, my great-grandmother gave me a large, neatly wrapped present for the holidays.  Eager to see what she had gotten me, I ripped it apart to find an assortment of little, pink objects (minis) from paper, to mirror, to treasure chest lock and key.  I thought it was the best present EVER.  My fondness for miniature things has grown with me throughout the years: the Barbie corvette, the porcelain china set, figurines, and a set of color pencils that aren’t any bigger than half-a-thumb.  I loved the attention to detail paid on these small replicas that could fit endless dollhouses.  It’s much the same, I would imagine, that a train set enthusiast has with his hobby; it is a smaller version of life.  The more realistic, the better.  The more detailed, the more enchanting.  You can create your own world that’s controllable.  The trees don’t get lined on the street, for example, unless your hand places it there.  But, it doesn’t have to begin and end with replicas.  I also love the little things about my world around me.  People, faces, gestures.  The little things that people say to make you feel good: You look great today!  Did you lose weight? Or, the little things that people do: Open the door for you, smile, say ‘hello’.   

Which brings me to reason behind this post…

Because I am a sincere lover in little things and a fine Catholic, I often found big things really daunting.  It could be anything from a test to a job interview.  It is when I feel the lowest or that life has managed to put a wrecking ball in my plans, that the little things matter so much to me.  For me, it is a sign from up above that I’m going to be okay.  That may sound corny, but have you been reading my blog?  Well, I’m corny okay?  I’m just going to be corny, so…DEAL.  I’ve already written about my pennies from heaven before, but imagine my surprise given my recent experience.  Calm down.  I’m gonna tell you…I promise.  Gah!

Suzie Orman, fellow Goddess of Finances, has always directed money savers never to play the lotto.  However, Suzie never mentioned anything about peer pressure and feeling honored to be included in a group and so on.  So, feeling warm and fuzzy that I was being included into a very small selective office pool, I took the bait.  It cost me 10 bucks.  I really didn’t have it to give away but felt it my duty to put my money on this BIG LOTTO of like, $365 million or something.  Who could pass up this opportunity even if there are sickening odds like: 1,300,000,000,000,0000 : 1 ?  I had to play to be one of the gang.  It was akin to a group hug in a commune in the 60’s, man! (Had to do it)  Anyway, I guess you all know by now that we lost.  Oh, and yeah, I personally lost $10.  Ugh!

Here’s the conversation I had with myself when I suddenly realized I didn’t have enough money to buy lunch that day:

STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!  Oh, what an idiot you are, MeMa.  Good going.  You should’ve listened to Suzie Orman.  Didn’t she say this would happen?  Of course she did.  She manages Oprah’s money.  That’s right, Winfrey’s billion dollar empire.  How’s she do that?  SHE DOESN’T PLAY THE LOTTO!!!  Oh. My. Gosh.  You are such an idiot!  You are the biggest jerk in the world…

*ahem*

I sat in my office for about a half hour pondering the ridiculousness of my crazy idiocy and starving.  Just then, a fellow co-worker stopped at my desk and dropped a sandwich on my desk mumbling something about not being that hungry and…I was shocked.  Stupidity + Hunger + Depression = Good Eats.  In the best sentiment that I could muster at the time, I halfheartedly said, ‘thanks’ to the co-worker as he walked away briskly.  Later, he’d stop by and offer a quick comment: It was gooood, right? and with the crumbs still strewn all over the top of my desk I replied, ‘Yeah!’  So the day went on like this.  I needed to buy a book of stamps but the machine on our floor was out of order.  After lunch, I returned to my desk to find some manila envelopes in my in-box with perfectly, unstamped postage.  Needless to say, my day began to take a turn in little ways. 

That night, I gaveCarlos a rundown of my odd good fortune.  I told him about the sandwich and the postage stamps and he laughed.  “Babe, I can’t believe you.  When you said that you had big news to tell me, I thought it was some incredible stroke of luck you had.  I was expecting to hear about some great big thing and you’re gushing about a few postage stamps and a sandwich!  That’s why I love you, y’know.”  It was getting late and I knew that I had to take the dogs out, but Lady didn’t want to go.  It was cold, so I bundled myself up real good and got Bear ready.  He was happy to go out with me alone, but me?  I was miserable.  I kept thinking that maybe Carlos was right.  All that other stuff could just be a coincidence.  I still didn’t know how I was going to afford bus fare the following week to get to work.  As I walked, my feet felt like lead and Bear kept insisting to walk down a street I hate to walk him on.  Still, if you try to fight too long with this St. Bernard, you’re sure to lose.  “Fine, fine!”  I yelled into the cold as he lunged and raced forward, forcing me into a jog.  “Bear!  Bear!” I yelled as he ran down that block.  He stopped on the corner and I followed him up as he sniffed at some front yards.  I kept my eye on the ground like I always do and noticed something there.  Neatly folded on the ground waved a 10 dollar bill.  I picked it up and thanked God (for the little things).

How do you like that, Suzie Orman?

Zen & The Art of Mopping The Hallway

I think Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid had it right.  “Wax on, wax off.” (Not a euphemism)

I’m always up for the challenge of learning life lessons while doing something ordinary say, mopping the building hallway.  Now don’t think that this is a task that I have managed to like.  On the contrary.  It is my least favorite chore and I always go over these imagined scenarios in my mind where, not in so many words, I tell my landlord to go to hell.  Unfortunately, I don’t really have any cause to complain other than the fact that my landlord can speak to me rather condescendingly when accepting my monthly rent check.  If I knew him well enough I’d probably say that he was even a nice guy.  Maybe.  But I don’t know him from a hole in the wall and some locals say that I’m probably better off.  It’s just that I’ve always had a say when it comes to things.  Even if my mouth does have a tendency to run without too much thought…which inevitably gets me in all sorts of trouble.  But I digress…

I often begin at the top.  A woman who used to work for a cleaning company had once given me this helpful tip.  When it comes to cleaning, it is the best thing to do because wayward dust (or in this case, dog hair) has a tendency to float down when settling.  Sounds simple enough, right?  So I start at the top and sweep and mop thinking all sorts of random things.  My primary goal is to get my mind focused on something else.  There’s a hidden craft to sweeping as well.  A lock that I have yet to fully unfasten.  It seems that the simple motion of moving that broom back and forth can get you in a kind of zen-like state.  It is the awareness behind it, the timeliness of it, the care and focus on the motion that can get you to exist in a relaxed state.  I’m not kidding, it’s almost hypnotic.  Then, there’s mopping and vacuuming which (if not too distracted with the humming noise of the vacuum cleaner) can also have the same effect.  I think Oprah once said about meditation that the experience is to “be in the moment”, to exist in the action with all of your senses piqued at the same time.  I like that idea.  I once wrote about walking the dogs as having a similar vibe to it.  Well, it does.  If you don’t believe me, do this quick little exercise: 

• Sit down someplace quiet
• Listen to your breathing and your heartbeat
• Focus on the act of breathing
• Listen to the world around you and your thoughts racing
• Take deep, slow breaths until the thoughts start to settle
• Repeat over and over until you cannot distinguish between the breathing and the thought

I think the last step is the hardest because we don’t know what it is like to exist devoid of our own thoughts.  We are taught to trust our thoughts and our feelings.  Zen asks you to become one with both until neither one are distinguishable from the other.  It is one motion; sweep left.  One idea; sweep right.  I am sweeping; sweep left.  I am thinking; sweep right.  It’s definitely not as easy as it sounds and I have yet to learn to quiet my thoughts because just as I’m beginning to get to that goal, I have another thought.  Then another and another.  It is very hard for writers to take themselves away from observation, but I’m still trying.

So after sweeping and mopping, I began to vacuum then look at the hallway as a whole.  The true gift is taking each task separately so that it isn’t so daunting.  I’ll just sweep this little step here.  Then, I go to the next step and get it clean.  I repeat this concept until the whole hallway is completely done.  I know, it sounds obvious, but it was helpful for me to see things from this perspective because I am a product of city life.  City life is predicated on the art of getting things done fast.  No sooner a task is completed, a new one arises.  A life like this can cause instant burnout so it’s important to keep Zen-like principles when living in the big city.  It’ll save you ten miles of misery.  

The Woman Who Could Stand To Lose 20 Bucks

I was standing in a line counting and re-counting the money I had in my wallet.  It’s a little OCD game I play within the confines of my own mind.  I begin by checking my wallet and extracting all my money, then realizing that I can’t carry it properly in my hand, I return the money.  A second later, I freak myself out wondering where my money went, check the wallet and repeat until I drive myself completely bonkers and wonder what the use is of hands.  I mean, human beings are made up so awkwardly, right?  Our limbs are all gawky and weird and I never know how to stand with themjust hanging about.  If I lie down, I never know where my arms should go.  Do I tuck them under me?  No, wait that hurts and then my fingers go numb.  But what can you do but curl them up and over?  That, or just leave them at your sides which only works if you’re laying down.  It doesn’t work if you’re standing upright.  I marvel at retarded thoughts like these that plague my brain.  Leaves little room for more important things.  Really.

So anyway, I was fanning the singles and saw that I didn’t have more than four dollars in my hand at any given moment.  I counted.  I re-counted and re-verified over and over and was sure that I had counted correctly.  Just at the moment when I moved up in the line, I saw a svelte blonde not particularly tall, but definitely well-dressed go up to the cash register and while she did so, she dropped a 20 dollar bill.  She began a little small talk conversation with the girl at the register and hadn’t noticed that her 20 dollars was just sitting there.  Within minutes, a gentleman passing by her in the opposite direction, picked up the bill and asked her if she had dropped it.  Unflinchingly, she grabbed hold of the twenty and didn’t even act as though she would’ve missed the bill.  She took it in her hand, handed it as payment for her meal, and returned it to a small wad of twenty dollar bills which she held in her hand.  She, unlike me, didn’t appear awkward or confused at all.  She didn’t miss the money.  And if she did, she didn’t act like it.  But you see, that’s where she and I differed.  Knowing what it’s like to miss something of value, I felt shock that this woman behaved so calmly.  But this woman is probably bred to behave evenly without desperation.  It made me wonder why, then, I consider it acceptable to lose my cool and show people outwardly what’s going on inwardly.  It is part of the reason why the conception of wealth is so prominent; if money isn’t missed when lost, then the viewer attributes this action as a sign of power. 

Case in point: a few years ago, I was having some money troubles when a collection was going around for a co-worker in the office who was in the hospital.  I gave, but as I did so, I thought it important to mention that I was giving “even though I couldn’t really afford it.”  That’s when someone called me out and said that I was being rude because no one could afford it.  That incident made me realize what it was to donate in a classy way versus a non-classy way.  By calling attention to my need to supercede someone else’s need, I cheapened the act of donating to a cause.  In addition, I made myself appear as though I were heartless for thinking selfishly about monetary issues while someone was suffering physically.  Nowadays, I don’t give if I don’t value the cause and only if I know that I really can’t afford it.  It avoids me being hypocritical and calling myself out as an ingrate.  I’d much rather be called a cheapskate.  Keeping up appearances isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. 

Still, the true act of giving is more than just giving money.  In exchange, you can offer time or help or some other means to assist that is less easy than digging in the wallet.  At the same time you can show your true colors as a humanitarian.  Not everyone can be Mrs. Moneybags, after all.  But at least they can be Miss Congeniality. 

MeMa: The Ox

Now, I’ve been called many things in my life but…an ox?  Turns out nobody called me that. That’s just my Chinese birthdate calendar-animal-symbol thing.  So I started to think about my personal characteristics and whether or not the symbol applies to me at all.  Remarkably, there are some startling similarities. 

Note to Self: In order to avoid the ever present outline format I normally use, I’m going to attempt to write things out more in my blog. I’m trying to challenge myself (Sorry, short attention span geeks)

Last weekend I went shopping with my mom and my sis.  It was basically a reconnecting session that was probably overdue by a few months.  I have come to realize that if the shopping gods are not on your side that day, then dude, they are not on your side.  As we were going through aisles and racks of clothes and display items, I scoped the merchandise but couldn’t decide on anything that I sincerely liked.  Hence my point: like oxen, I needed direction and guidance to be led to an ultimate goal.  My sister, the dragon is golden in this department.  Given a task, she shines.  Given motivation, she leads.  Given purpose, she exceeds every expectation.  So she made wonderful choices all which I could say ‘yea’ or ‘nay’ to.  But, now that I was being guided, like a true ox, I was veering off-course. Newton’s law: an object at rest tends to stay at rest…and all the rest, right?  Right.  So I was taking too long making selections and decisions because I like to take my time. Ah, oxen. 

Here’s another example: After grocery shopping for the week, I held this heavy load in my shopping cart.  For any person without a car, the task could easily be burdensome, but not for the ox.  As I walked toward the end of the parking lot, there’s a downward slope then a muddy, rocky terrain before I reach the street.  I carted the load behind me without very much effort and felt renewed in a weird way.  I guess it’s an oxen discipline to be able to haul and pull and still look great doing it; albeit slowly.  You go, oxen!

When I think about oxen, I think about perseverance, concentration, strength.  They seem to be born leaders so long as there is a farmhand somewhere steering them in the right direction.  Figuratively, they carry heavy loads.  Their own heftiness reminds me of my own stature but they carry themselves well (all while their hooves are dug deep in the earth).  Oxen also thrive on teamwork; two of them in front sowing land.   To get even more in depth, I am a Water Ox.  Here’s where the similarities between the traditional astrology and non-traditional really amaze me.  In both, my sign is related with water.  I’m steeped in it.  This always reminds me for some reason, about the movie, Lengends of the Fall when the Native American speaks of the girl–I’m paraphrasing here–as ’water that splits a rock apart being neither the rock’s fault any more than it is the waters’ That’s me all over…I’m stubborn and stern and excitable.  But I’m also soothing and gentle and cleansing.  At least that’s what I’ve been told. 

Then, there is another oxen trait which I exemplify: solitude.  I love to be alone.  I love being left alone.  Although I’m not anti-social, I feel that there is a time and a place for socializing and I don’t like being caught off guard.  After all of that teamwork pulling others’ heavy burdens, I want to be able to relax in my home by myself.  Oh sure, I see the non-oxen fill their calendars with events and scheduling meetings to fill all of their free time…but that’s obviously not me.  In fact, I spend an enormous amount of time completely alone relishing the fact that my phone doesn’t ring for days, sometimes weeks at a stretch.  In the summer, I enjoy my long walks at the pier (there goes that water symbolism again) pondering life and writing my poetry. 

So what type of Chinese character are you?  I’d like to know.  Go ahn, tell me!

Rainy Day

Well, good day my darlings!  It’s raining outside this morning and I’m just hoping that it won’t lead to this: 

*Fingers Crossed*

Enjoy your rainy day in Jersey (or, wherever you live…where it’s raining)!