Playoff Football!

Cheering on for the OTHER Texas team:
H O U S T O N  *  T E X A N S

The File Room Lady

 The one sort of "friend" I've made at my new job got fired today.

Happy Friday the 13th to her, right? *party*

When embarking on my new job opportunity, I consciously decided I wouldn't make friends.  I would be nice, cordial, friendly, but not open to bonding.  I don't particularly want a lunch buddy, nor do I want to be involved in matters of your life.  I don't want to share my own life with co-workers.  It's enough for me to say "I'm sick and can't come in", and exchange niceties.  I don't want you knowing what my kids wore for Halloween, what I'm doing for Christmas, and so forth.  Moreover, I don't want to be a part of the gossip pool that exists in offices. I'm here to learn, to do, to leave.  

Yet, it started happening. I guess it can't not.  

There's one lady that worked in our file room that I found particularly interesting.  She was on contract-hire status.  She's from Mexico City. She moved from Mexico on her own to the United States - Houston, Texas - as a teenager so she could advance her education.  She knew no one.

She eventually got married, had a child.  That child now attends Southern Methodist University, studying science/pre-med, something or other.  The two of them moved to Dallas and live together; her husband remains in Houston. She doesn't allow her daughter to work so that she can concentrate on studies.

Given my background of living along the border, I found it easy to talk with her at certain company gatherings and the two of us tended to gravitate toward each other.  During an outing, she mentioned she's learning Hebrew.  Then she later shared she's Jewish -- NOT a convert, either!

I found this to be QUITE fascinating for, in all my years of being in El Paso, never had I heard of Mexican Jews! Given my interest in both culture and religion, I was naturally curious to learn more.  Conversation struck up from time to time.

I've not been at my current job for very long. I've noticed how some of my co-workers condescendingly talk to her, treat her.  I've admired how my "friend" worked through the mistreatment. After hearing a little about her plight, I understood better why she does.

The bottom line is that I feel like she's being wrongly fired. Like I said at the beginning of the blog, I've tried to steer clear from gossip and bonding. Yet, I still feel like there were times that she was on the black list.

Today, of all days (if you're the superstitious type), is the day my "friend" was Black Listed.

She is leaving with dignity and I praise her for working all day, completing as much as she could, even though she knew it was her last day.

I wish her luck. I wish her joy. I wish her peace. I wish her a good job where people treat her with dignity and respect. 

(How's that for a "fun" blog?! *goes back to the drawing board*)

#toomuchnotenough

This blog isn't fun anymore is it? It's become rather heavy and serious. C'mon, you can be honest. 

It's b(L)ogged down by psychology psycho-babbleble, my life blah-ness, church stuff. (You should see the naughty I have in draft form! #storyofmylife) 

It isn't fun with words, great sports thoughts (ahem), light and silly pop-culture hoop-lah.  No more fantasizing with "Trust Fund Baby", or even sexy things.

What's happened to me?

I know what's happened.... *keeps them secret*

But it's time to break out! It's time to shed the heavy and be light. It's time to step out of the dark and into the light.

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You go first.

hahaha!

Okay, fah realz.... Fun stuff coming soon. Who knows? I might even move over to Wordpress!

#tease

And yes, that's right, I type in twitter-ese sometimes now. Get used to it.

My The Twittah Haikus

I spend A LOT of time on The Twittah (see side panel of thurr somewhurr~~>).  

You see, on The Twittah, it's fast and easy. For the A.D.D. individual, it's perfect. If you're not A.D.D. before being on The Twittah, you'll be come A.D.D. by being there.

Also on The Twittah, there are communities of people with vast talents and passions.  One can find *everything* there from church-related content, recipe sharing, political advocacy, word games, business promotion, sports scores, community events, naughtiness (and I don't mean merely flirting), etc.  It can be quite chatroom-ish.  Live tweeting during sporting events is fun. It's better than live blogging -- I would imagine. I remember Dan from [Redacted] would try to live blog The Bachelor and I never got that concept until I joined The Twittah.

Me? I've found a group of people who enjoy sports and The Ticket. I've found a handful of poets, writers and photographers that put up great stuff.  Maybe sometime I'll blog about my favorite creative The Twittah accounts.....

In my The Twittah activities, I've really tapped into the poetic and photographic parts, and those parts have, in turn, inspired growth in my own poetry and photography.  I use tumblr to feature some of my photographs, but others go straight to TwitPic or yfrog. 

There's this whole underbelly of The Twittah that I don't fully understand but I fully intend to someday (right when it becomes archaic...?).  I don't know if it's a bot or what, but when I tweet a haiku and hashtag it (#haiku), some force of space copies my haiku from The Twittah and posts it here.

The website is called Poeet.  I can only imagine that it's a combination of poet + tweet. *waits for the Nobel Peace Prize in Brilliance*

I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon, but the majority of me thinks it's pretty cool. So...enjoy my haikus however you are able to see them. If it's the CIA, though, I'm creeped out.

~Whoosh!

Did I Mention.....

.....27 shopping days left till my birthday!! GET BUSY, PEOPLE!

Approaching 41

Oh, and happy new year.

Music Minute: Glitter In The Air ~ P!nk

Accidentally came across this song today.....loved it. Had to share it. Weird how music speaks to me....

~



~

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
Close your eyes and trust it, just trust it
Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don't care?
It's only half past the point of no return
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn
The thunder before lightning, the breath before the phrase
Have you ever felt this way?

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

It's only half past the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run
The breath before the kiss and the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar
You called me sugar

~

x

The Human Condition

"Every day I make an effort to go towards what I don't understand"

 ~ Yo Yo Ma ~

My friend, Sunday Jeans, posted that as her Facebook status today. I read it and thought, "Yep, that's me."

That's also Sunday.  We're like peanut butter and chocolate that way.  I love that Sunday 'gets' me in a special way. She and I are a lot alike, as we have extremely similar upbringings -- facets about our childhood, specifically our formative years, that we struggle with in adulthood.  We also tend to use academics to help us with our emotions and the emotions of others.  We tend to cope with emotions in a clinical manner. 

I am a psychology major, though I cannot list the great psychological minds of history. I cannot recite to you theories and psychologists if you paid me a million dollars. I know who you know: Freud, Piaget, Pavlov. I know bits and pieces, enough to sound intelligent and carry a conversation at a dinner party. I know enough to influence the way I parent sometimes. I know enough, but always willing to learn more. What I know isn't absolute. It is moveable. I can be -- and have been on PLENTY of occasions -- wrong.

To tell someone I study psychology is risky.  In terms of interpersonal/intimate relationships I'm told, "don't give me that psychobabble", "you're doing reverse psychology on me", "quit playing psychologist" or "you're playing mind games with me".  It also is amazing to walk through life with this particular interest because it lends itself to the deepest depths and richest, limitless value in life, people, relationships: "someone finally understands", "I never thought of it like that", "I miss your 'unconditional'", "I can't tell anyone else this...". Frequent words spoken to me by friends and aquaintances: "evaluate me", "tell me what you see in me", "can you tell me what my issues are?".  All compliments for sure, and for which I gratefully accept.  That deep depth and life richness helps me endure the harshness of the other.

Psychology as a study, taken as a whole, is tricky soft science.  The Powers That Be and Society At Large, tries to "universalize" the human condition, meaning, compartmentalize or categorize in order to make predictions. It's a science that bleeds into all other sciences, except maybe the hard sciences. The hard sciences, though, even have a faction of studies where psychology and physics meet -- you know, "if you set your mind to it, you can change it" and that process of actual thought is measurable because brain waves are physical.  (I don't get it either.....*laughing*)

Telling someone I'm a student of psychology means that person is on sentry.  Guard goes up in a unique way. It isn't like the guard one posts when meeting new people at a party, or early dating life, or in I-am-only-here-by-force guard.  No. It's different. There's this conscious wonder that I can SEE. S/He wonders how I'm assessing, evaluating, studying, measuring. Being able to feel this tension makes me sad.  It is never my intention to make you feel invaded. Rest assured, I don't do any of that. I am like you -- I make the same judgements on first impressions or look at situations and filter information. I'm not interested in playing head games with anyone. I've been on that side of the relationship and I've been damaged.

More personally, being in a relationship with me can be very easy or very complicated -- so I'm told. I doubt this is unusual for any of us, truthfully. You've probably heard that about yourself and said it about someone else.  The fact of the matter is, we all cross wires.  In intimate relationships, especially, I am told I'm "clinical" or "academic" when dealing with emotional issues. I suppose there's a truth to that statement, and it would be fair to say that it's a defense or coping mechanism of sorts.  Because I believe in becoming a better person each day, I do expect you to do it too.  But even I need a break from progression, as do you. Being still is needed.

I have no plans to ever become a psychologist at any level, which explains why my retention of rote facts about psychology is poor.  The main reason I became interested in the study of human behavior is because I want to understand my own suffering.  I want to understand my own behavior(s).  I want to be able to understand others similarly.  I want to progress as a person. Why? So I could love better, and be loved better. 

What I extrapolate from studying psychology is simply, the human condition, more specifically YOUR humanness as it unfolds in the experience of our relationship, and MY humanness as it unfolds in the experience of our relationship.

Sure, I throw out words like "validated", "formative years", "co-dependent", "addictive", "family of origin".  I also use words like "I love you" to almost every one.  I use "I understand", "I can accept that", "I want to understand", "help me understand", "thank you", "you're amazing" and many, many bolstering words.  I have grown in my ability to love others.  I've grown in my ability to be loved.  I've grown in the self-love aspect of my being, as well.  Of COURSE I still struggle with all of these things daily.  I've certainly had my inner and outer tantrums about not being given a 40th birthday party, missing out on concerts or social events because of xyz, wishing I was somewhere else or with someone else. I still daydream about single life, travelling abroad, wanting MORE out of my life.  Even though I feel unsettled or unhappy, but I continue to find hope and I continue to place faith in growth.  I look to forgive and seek forgiveness. I look for worth and need to feel worthy. I used to think of that as a weakness, and sometimes I still do. But it isn't. Everyone needs to feel like they matter.

In the end, isn't about the people? Isn't our life about who we touch and how we are touched by others? Isn't our precious time on earth meant to be to reconcile one another? There's no entitlement, no promise of pure joy and happiness. But what we have are the gifts of each other and the gifts within ourselves to offer, selflessly.

So, I offer a lifetime of apologies for the times I've ever made you feel judged, unaccepted, rejected, less than.  I'm doing the best I can. It's not any better than you are. It's not any worse. I am just me -- just Jackie, and I love you.

Happy Christmas

I was ahead this year.....till I became behind.

Seriously, how does it happen?

I really don't feel happy this time of year. I'm sad that I feel unhappy about it. Yeah, THAT snowball (pun?).

I try to focus on the reason Christmas even exists:  Christ.

I receive joy in events such as Boa singing in the choir, the home-made ornaments, the tree shopping. 

I do not enjoy the pressure of gifts -- receiving and giving.  I feel unorganized and therefore don't get packages in the mail on time, nor do I plan enough ahead to let the internet handle the mailing. I so long for the motivation and money to line up so that I can send gifts from the interwebs. Ultimately, I'd like the gift exchanging to end altogether. *perfect world*  I find it ridiculous to feel pressure to shop for teachers (school, church, etc.), co-workers, the mail man, the crossing guard, and so on and so on and so on.....

I tried harder this year to change my attitude.  For a while, I even had Christmas Spirit!

I have to try harder to shed the anxiety about all those pressures and focus on the birth of a tender baby.  The rest will fall into place.

So, in spite of my blue Christmas blog, just know that I am thankful for you wherever you are, whomever you are. And, in spite of my blue Christmas blog, I am taking moments here and there and settling down long enough to smile knowing Jesus is here.

Divinity weds humanity.

Happy Christmas.

Amen.

Neruda: The Fickle One

THE FICKLE ONE

~

My eyes went away from me

following a dark girl who went by.

She was made of black mother-of-pearl,

made of dark-purple grapes,

and she lashed my blood

with her tail of fire.

After them all

I go.

A pale blonde went by

like a golden plant

swaying her gifts.

And my mouth went

like a wave

discharging on her breast

lightningbolts of blood.

After them all

I go.

But to you, without my moving,

without seeing you, distant you,

go my blood and my kisses,

my dark one and my fair one,

my tall one and my little one,

my broad one and my slender one,

my ugly one, my beauty,

made of all the gold

and of all the silver,

made of all the wheat

and of all the earth,

made of all the water

of the sea waves,

made for my arms,

made for my kisses,

made for my soul.

~

Offerings of Compassion

This photo was taken at the State Fair of Texas when My Little One was three. We were sitting inside the building where the Quilts & other arts and crafts are on prized display. The Texas sun bore it's heavy beams on our delicate faces, so we decided to escape it a while. Ice cream seemed the perfect invitation to accept, so inside a building we ducked. 

Her curly locks had been pink-hair-sprayed & were drenched in sweat! My face was hotred.  We should've been miserable, yet we were laughing! 

Look how happy my sweetsweet is!! This picture makes me giggle and laugh and melt and ... well, just everything gooey and good. 

The picture was tucked away in a pile of pictures I had out to sort and put in an album.  There are stacks of pictures.  The point is, this photo wasn't out in plain sight.  It was buried in a sea of other photos.  Add to the mix that the sea is now contained in a closet because it was relocated to a room that we recently converted into an office-type room. 

See that sand dollar?  The sand dollar is her own painted artwork.  She painted it over the summer at a little clayhouse business near our home.  I'm not sure where it was before it was offered to me as captured in the photo above, but I know she's been very fond of it and plays with it from time to time.

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My Little One is such a sensitive, tender soul with a heart that is so tuned into mine it's scary (and I wouldn't trade it for the world!).

Several months ago, I was feeling overwhelmed, and this particular day, I couldn't hold myself together any longer.  My Husband and I had closed our bedroom door and I was venting about feeling inadequate.  I wasn't yelling in anger; rather, I was releasing in a very emotional way -- might even call it an unravelling.  This was a pretty unusual event because I don't typically unravel around My Family.  This day, I did; there was no stopping it. 

I was crying the kind of cry where I get all boogery and practically hyperventillate.  The kind where I enter a zone of some sort and don't really have control of what I'm saying.  The kind of cry where I experience a migraine almost immediately after the tears dry. 

 

A brief time passes and I'm calmer, feeling better.  I opened the bedroom door to brave the world again.  On the floor, right at the threshold, before I could even take my first step, was the photo and sand dollar, just as it's pictured above.  Right at my bare feet was this abundant love.  I look down the hallway and she peeks out of a room with worried eyes, seeking answers, seeking returned love.  In a moment of a moment of time, we had an unspoken love flow between us and I felt so validated and adequate.  She cautiously approaches me where my arms were already open, awaiting to embrace her whole being.  And so, she entered, I lifted her up and hugged her to near-suffocation.  We exchanged words of assurance and all was right in the world again....

 

What an incredibly insighful gesture by a five year old.  What an amazing offering of compassion.

 

I am a blessed woman -- beyond measure -- beyond my worth.  And I am ever, EVER thankful.

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The Legend of the Sand Dollar